Ninja Turtles '03 oneshot
by JH24
Summary: His men had already left at his orders. Agent John Bishop was alone. It wouldn't be long now... Post Fast Forward - AU


Author: JH24

Disclaimer: I don't own this series. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles has been created by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird. TMNT '03 has been produced by 4Kids Entertainment and Mirage Studios. Current rights belong to Nickelodeon.

Spoilers: The story takes place after Fast Forward, but in an alternate universe. Events like Cyber Shredder and Splinter disappearing never happened. But an event like Casey proposing to April could still have taken place.

Pairings: No Pairings

Outside characters: None

_My sincere thanks to Koriat Cyredanthem for beta-reading. I'm really grateful for all your help. Thank you so much for everything._

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**Ninja Turtles '03 one-shot**

Agent John Bishop was sitting behind a desk, his hands folded together, his chin resting gently on them. He briefly glanced around the room. It was covered in darkness, slightly, yet eerily, illuminated by the moon shining outside the large window behind him. The office room was quite large, with a few cabinets to his left, several paintings and a staff against the wall to his right. But, other than that, the room appeared surprisingly empty.

Bishop checked his watch. 0:15 AM, Saturday. It wouldn't be long now. He stood up, and glanced at the display of one of the two devices lying on his desk. For a moment he considered turning on the desk light as well, but decided against it. For now, he felt at ease in the shadows. The man then turned around and stepped towards the large window, casually placing his hands behind his back.

Looking through the glass, Bishop gazed at the city below. Standing on the 20th floor of an office building he realized that the only thing left for him to do was watching... and waiting.

The clock was ticking...

Looking back, his decision not to close down this office building entirely had proven to be a good one. Once housing an important part of the administration of his organisation, the Earth Protection Force, it had been abandoned in the face of possible budget cuts by the president. With funding now secured for years to come, not in the least because of his staged alien occupation and the recent invasion by an entity named "The Shredder," he had decided to keep the tower functioning within the agency, convinced it would still be able to serve some kind of purpose one day.

Bishop was glad he made that decision; tonight, this building would make the perfect location for what he had in mind. His men had already left at his orders. He was alone.

_Well... almost alone._

He looked up. Knowing he still had a few minutes left, the man allowed his mind to wander for a bit. Staring at the night sky, especially at the moon, always gave him a moment of peace. A moment to gather his thoughts, a moment to focus his mind. Yes, perhaps even a moment to lower his guard.

The man smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was odd, really. The same night sky he enjoyed staring at was home to possibly thousands of alien species, each one of them presenting a potential threat to the Earth. Yet, even with this knowledge, it had a calming effect on him. It was the only remaining constant in an ever changing world. It reminded him of his mission, it reminded him of his purpose; it reminded him of the man he needed to be.

Business was going well lately. Almost all of his projects were up and running, and new ones would be added within the next few months. Even his "Slayer" project that had been destroyed over two years ago had recently been started up again. But it would take at least another decade just to reach the same level of development and progress. Nevertheless, the consequences could have been worse. The majority of the research data was spared, safely stored within his backup network.

Bishop frowned. Still, there were some issues that bothered him. One of those was the disappearance of the scientist Baxter Stockman about half a year after the Shredder invasion. Even though his men had searched intensively they still hadn't been able to locate him. He didn't like to admit it, but Stockman had proven to be a valuable asset. True, his character wasn't much to speak off, but his brilliance and intellect more than made up for those traits. And that was what especially bothered him. His projects were running well, but it felt as if they were only running at half capacity without Stockman. The slowdown was becoming more and more noticeable as time went on.

There were rumors that Stockman had recently associated himself with the Purple Dragons in New York, but further investigation didn't reveal anything conclusive. Bishop's men were still searching; he didn't give up that easily.

On the alien front, things seemed to look satisfactory. After the last invasion by the Tengu Shredder almost two years ago, no more alien activity had been detected within range of any equipment Bishop commanded. Although he would always be ready to defend and protect the Earth, Bishop had admitted to himself he wouldn't mind if Earth could lay low for awhile. Not only that, but the man still hadn't forgiven himself for that fiasco surrounding the Heart of Tengu. One of the rare moments in his life someone had been able to take advantage of his weaknesses.

He had allowed himself to be deceived. In his unsatiable quest for alien technology he had allowed someone else to manipulate him. And in turn he had manipulated others to do his work. Because of that, he had put the Earth in danger; the same Earth he was supposed to protect.

Unforgivable.

He grimaced, if it hadn't been for those turtles...

_Ah, yes. The turtles._

Never in his life had he met such fascinating creatures. They had proven themselves to be unique in every aspect. One thing that he found especially interesting was how the dynamic of their relationship had evolved. In the first months after their initial meeting during the Triceraton invasion, he had only seen them as interesting specimens just waiting to be dissected, valuable sources of organic matter that could aid him in protecting the Earth from alien threats. But over time, his view of these creatures began to change.

The turtles had proven themselves to be very useful allies, either willingly or unwillingly. He only found out later that they had played a key role in disabling the Triceraton and Federation fleets around Earth. They also had been successful in obtaining the Heart of Tengu—even if the results were undesirable—and it had been especially thanks to them, and to Karai, the demon Shredder had been defeated in the end.

These events had convinced Bishop that the turtles would be worth more to him alive; their lifeless bodies on his dissection tables would only answer a few of his many questions. Any desire to study them further, to dissect them and to use their organic material in future experiments had dulled and waned over time. Bishop's mouth curled upward lightly as he gazed at the streets and buildings below, not looking at anything in particular.

He could even admit to himself that he had begun to like these creatures in a way. For some reason, their existence started to bring out the best in him. When facing them, he could feel that distant spark of energy he barely felt anymore in his long life. They gave him the feeling of a real challenge, an experience that made him feel truly alive again. Even when suffering defeat at their hands, he couldn't help but feeling revitalized afterwards. There was something truly captivating about having worthy opponents; they not only possessed exceptional combat skills, but also had the ability to outsmart him. Honestly, the turtles fascinated him more and more each time they met.

And then, almost two years ago; they suddenly disappeared, gone off the radar. It was a rather surprising turn of events, and one that had affected him more than he would have liked. To keep himself distracted and his mind occupied, he moved on to new avenues of research, focusing his attention on ambitious projects and more complicated experiments. In a way, the absence of those turtles turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It gave him a chance to rebuild his network and to set up new facilities throughout New York.

Still... after the third month of their disappearance, he decided to form a special team with only one objective. Monitoring the city for any kind of unusual activity and recording any kind of information that could be of possible use. Every few days he would examine the reports himself, and every time when the findings proved negative, he found himself pushing back a small twinge of disappointment. He hated himself for it.

And then, around eight months ago, they suddenly returned. He still remembered his first reaction when he found out.

Relief.

He hated himself even more for it. Bishop had scolded himself heavily afterwards. For some reason these creatures had drawn his attention, and even the notion of their mere existence wouldn't let him go anymore. Nonetheless, after their return, he decided to let them be. Satisfied with the knowledge they were back, he just kept a loose surveillance of their activities topside.

But eventually, their paths had to cross again. It was an inevitability that couldn't be helped. A difference in opinions, as he would call it. And it was from then on, that something had changed. A change that made Bishop both intrigued as well as mildly frustrated. In that first encounter, and in the ones that followed later, he had noticed a change in the turtles themselves, a change in their behavior.

There was something about them. Something he couldn't really put into words. He knew they had hated him so much in the past, to such an extent that they wouldn't hesitate to kill him if the need would arise, or at the very least to wound him gravely. But now, the dynamic had changed. You could almost feel it in the air. It was an... odd experience at best. Disconcerting at worst.

This observation, and the feeling that something was distinctively out of place had brought him to a halt several times during their battles. Moments and openings he could have used to decide these encounters in his favor, were lost as each time he allowed the turtles to get the best of him. Handing over the fight to them out of sheer curiosity... and a somewhat uneasy feeling growing from within.

That look... those eyes.

With each encounter they were giving him that look. Staring at him, with that strange expression in their eyes. He could never really tell what was going on behind their features. But at times he believed their stares were balancing a thin line between sympathy and confusion. Or in the case of the one called Raphael, just plain, simple frustration. And to be honest, he found that expression the only one that came close of being reassuring.

It was only after the third confrontation he finally realized how the game had changed. There was something stopping them, a restraint that wasn't there before. He could sense it. No longer did the four turtles seem interested in stopping _him _anymore. Their tactics had changed. And each time they would follow a similar pattern. Appearing before him, a short skirmish, pulling back, and just letting him walk away as they looked on from a distance.

They were holding back. It wasn't hard to notice. Their attacks lacking the lethality they once possessed, their calculated moves avoiding any kind of injury that could be inflicted on him, their actions being mostly defensive in nature.

Moreover, Bishop could see the turtles had realized he was holding back as well. Both sides had become players in a rather peculiar performance. It was... interesting, to say the least.

But it was especially that look, their stare which affected him the most. It was an oddity that had stayed with him since the first encounter after their return, and seemed to come back every next time they met just to haunt him.

Bishop found it irritating, but only to a certain extent. It felt as if he was being judged in some way, as if the four turtles knew something about him he wasn't even aware off. It was as if they were waiting for something, almost if they were waiting for something he would do. He just couldn't place it. But whatever it was, their attitude towards him had changed. The open hostility they used to display was gone, replaced by something that seemed to border very close to sympathy, or even a form of respect.

At times Bishop had considered capturing the one called Michelangelo and putting him under a harsh interrogation procedure, believing he would be the easiest to break. But each time he had pushed the thought out of his mind. In a way, he didn't want to know the reasoning behind their actions. He actually found it somewhat comforting. It kept his mind on edge and his reasoning sharp. It gave him something interesting as well as entertaining to look forward to, a new challenge he would be eager to accept.

It had changed everything. In these encounters he slowly found himself toying with them more and more. Sometimes he even moved through their sphere of influence on purpose. Other times, he revealed himself and his plans just enough to draw their attention. It had become a dance between darker motivations and simple curiosity.

Bishop adjusted his shades before glancing at his watch again. 00:26 AM. He smiled.

_Almost..._

Since the turtles returned there had been a number of confrontations, all of them occurring within the past five months, with the last one only being two weeks ago. While it was all very interesting, he felt the time had come to raise the stakes a little. He had already lost a minor facility and a small warehouse in the process, both officially written off as an accident. Any more losses would become costly, and may attract unwanted attention. Therefore he had decided the time was right to move the game up a level.

On that moment, a bleeping sound went off behind him. Bishop moved away from the window and picked up the device from his desk, disabling it with a push off the button. He briefly glanced at its display, which was showing three moving yellow dots.

_Well, well..._

Bishop put down the device and looked with a triumphant smile into the room, but this time he wasn't looking at something, but at someone...

He flicked the switch on his desk light. "It seems your brothers have come for you... Donatello."

...

With his hands cuffed behind his shell and his lower legs bound together by a metal ring, Donatello was sitting on a chair, his body partly cloaked in darkness, partly illuminated by a faint light. His head lowered, his eyes stared at the cold floor.

Bishop's smile waned as he walked from behind his desk, halting just a step away from the turtle himself. He folded his hands behind his back, and looked down with a solemn expression.

"I have to hand it to your brothers; they are fast. We've been here for barely twenty minutes." He leaned forward and carefully took out a device from a pocket of the turtle's belt. Letting out a chuckle, the operative continued. "Of course, the tracking signal in your Shell Cell may have helped them a bit," he said amused.

Donatello looked up. Bishop immediately felt himself tense.

_There's that look again_.

Really, it was getting on his nerves. This time the turtle's gaze actually seemed to convey some sadness. The man felt himself taking a step backwards in discomfort, but he quickly recovered.

_He knows something, and it's obvious he's struggling with it. Just like his brothers._

Silently berating himself for showing weakness, he put down the Shell Cell on the desk. He felt the question burning on his lips, wanting to ask it for a long time. He had convinced himself weeks ago he didn't want to, and forced himself to let it go... again. He liked this game as it was; asking about it now would... just ruin the moment. And it was highly unlikely he would receive an answer.

_Donatello, you really are a fascinating creature_.

Capturing him had proven to be quite an ordeal tonight. Separating him from his brothers and then dragging him into the truck had been difficult enough, but he actually kept resisting and fighting the entire route toward this building. Bishop could hear the struggle and the muffled sounds coming from the back of the truck. Even four experienced soldiers had trouble keeping the ninja turtle restrained; it was quite remarkable but not surprising.

When they had arrived at the building, all his resistance faded, and he seemed to resign himself to his fate. The operative found the change in behavior odd, but didn't further question it. With a defeated expression, Donatello had allowed the soldiers to tie his hands behind his shell, and willingly let them take him to the upper floor before he was bound to this chair. He had only looked at him once before lowering his head in submission.

"Um... Bishop?"

The man blinked. Momentarily he wondered how long he had allowed his mind to wander.

Donatello had slightly tilted his head. "Why are you doing this?" There was no hostility in his voice, nor any sign of resentment. What he could pick up was a clear hint of confusion and even some faint curiosity.

Bishop didn't reply. He walked behind his desk and took another look at the moving dots on his motion detector. He then grabbed the other device next to it and pressed a green button. Within a second two clicking noises could be heard in the room, followed by the metallic sounds of two objects hitting the floor.

"What...?"

Bishop rushed to the wall on his right, picked up the staff and then turned around to face Donatello, who had just stood up and was staring at him in confusion.

"I believe this is yours." Bishop threw the staff towards the purple-banded turtle, who caught it deftly. With the Bo staff in his hands, Donatello kept staring at him. Even under the faint light of the desk lamp, the disbelief on his expression was noticeable.

"I don't understand."

Bishop hurried back to his desk, and took one last look at the motion detector. He then faced Donatello again, but the turtle was only standing there, seemingly unwilling to move. The sounds of footsteps drew their attention toward the door across the room, and they became louder quickly.

Agent Bishop chuckled lightly. "They're here."

Within seconds the door flew out of its sockets, a heavy kick knocking it to the ground. Three figures jumped into the room. With a clicking sound the ceiling lights turned on. Wearing shades, Bishop wasn't affected, but he could see Donatello flinch as he clenched his eyes against the bright light. For a split second, he felt the urge to take him out in one swift move.

"Don!" The three turtles yelled in unison. Bishop shifted his attention towards them. He saw that Michelangelo was the one who had turned on the light, withdrawing his hand from the switch.

"Guys! Am I glad to see you." Smiling, Donatello quickly ran towards his brothers. As Bishop slowly moved in front of his desk, he watched as a relieved and smiling Leonardo put a hand on his brother's shoulder, a laughing Michelangelo was jumping—which presumably had to pass for some kind of dance—around his brother, while Raphael playfully bumped his fist against his brother's upper arm. Although they didn't show it, he knew that even now they were following every step he made.

"Don, are you alright?" Leonardo was the first to ask.

"If that Bishop guy as much as even touched you..." Raphael snarled, then glared at the man as he began to stalk towards him. A warning from Leonardo made his brother stop. Bishop couldn't help but smirk as he heard Raphael spit something venomous before moving back in line.

"Don't worry, I'm okay." Donatello replied, his voice still lined with some disbelief. He then turned toward Bishop and blinked. "He didn't do anything to me, actually." The other three faced him as well, weapons ready in their hands.

Bishop grimaced. They were giving him _that look_ again, but this time he could see something else as well.

He had crossed a line.

Even now there was no hate in their eyes, no anger nor killer intent. Except maybe for Raphael, but he would not go against his leader's orders. Still, something was _different_. He could sense one thing _had _changed; they were not going to let him off the hook as easy this time.

Bishop smiled inwardly. That would suit him just fine. Even though the turtles had been holding back, he could tell their skills and techniques had improved during their absence. But they were not the only ones...

Maybe now the restraints would be loosened a bit. And maybe now he could take off his gloves as well.

He was no longer interested in seeking their destruction, and they knew it. Just as he knew the turtles were no longer interested in stopping him. This night, the dynamic of their relationship had entered a new phase once again, and for a brief moment Bishop could only wonder what more the future would hold.

Leonardo took a step forward, holding both swords firmly in his hands, his eyes narrowed. "What was the point of all this, Bishop?"

He didn't reply. He didn't have to. Instead he took off his black coat and threw it on his desk behind him.

The turtles looked back in surprise. Bishop could see Leonardo's eyes widening. He then unloosened his tie but instead of throwing it on the desk as well, he wrapped it firmly around his right hand, wrist and arm.

Leonardo took on a fighting stance, his mouth curling into a faint smile.

_He understands..._

The others followed their leader's example and took on a fighting stance as well.

Agent John Bishop shifted into a defensive stance. He grinned. This night the gloves _were _coming off.

"GO!"

With this, the four teenage brothers charged towards him.

Tomorrow he would once again be protecting the Earth...

But tonight... tonight would be entirely for himself...


End file.
